


Ailment

by affectionateConfections



Series: Shit lets be the Striders [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Brotherly Love, Drabble, Fluff, Implied cuddlding, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Stridercest - Freeform, it can be shippy if you squint rlly hard, sick au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectionateConfections/pseuds/affectionateConfections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You do the last thing you can think of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ailment

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since I wrote something so I apologize for any typos / errors found in this. But I've kept this in my drafting for way too long so one day i was like scREW IT and just clicked post button so yeah ahaha  
> I hope you enjoy nonetheless ^^

"Y'know, I had a feeling that you'd be up by now and that notion was just so incessant I had to rendezvous with it in mind and here you are, boosting the ego of my gut-feelings."

Dirk's hand pauses in its descent toward the bottom of the pantry, his head turning to witness the amusement you allowed to only be displayed using a minuscule smirk on your lips. He straightens, brow furrowing slightly at your presence as he withdraws his hand almost tentatively, and rightfully so. Despite the little light-heartedness you were showing him, you were pretty damn annoyed and he knew it. The dude just couldn't stay put, you were always aware of that but even with subdued senses and a weakened, tired body it didn't do anything relevant to aid his sleep cycle? Bullshit. It was 4 in the morning, you just finished writing a script for your job and Dirk was, undoubtedly, pulling the all nighter with your back turned.

Normally fucks wouldn't be given, but just the sight of him nowadays made your insides cringe and you don't even know why.

But you weren't lying when you said you only came down with a feeling in your gut that you could give the appellation of "fatherly instinct" to now that you think about it. Damn, John had been rubbing off on you lately with his hawk-eyed care for Jane, you just knew it. Maybe Dirk did too. But had you not come down and he would've gotten what he came down for and then high-tail it back to his room to rely solely on some medicore entertainment app like Flappy Bird or some shit to keep him going through remainder of the night. 

Fuckin' fat chance now.

"... What're you doing up?" It's a harmless question to elude the silence but you know fully well _why_ Dirk was up, though at the same time you were actually curious as to what he had finally slithered out of his room to retrieve or do. 

He doesn't answer immediately, only staring at you with amber eyes that weren't covered by his anime shades, which was a rare occurrence and you flick your gaze away before it gets lost in the golden depths. You find yourself analyzing the slight defects to his visage, the bold red splotches slathered all over his cheeks, the glossy reflection jutting out over his skin from the sheen of sweat slathered all over him. You couldn't even begin on his hair, so hilariously ruffled and swept off to the side from a pillow and bed he kept himself in but you couldn't bring yourself to be amused. He'd been like this for practically a week, attempting to rid himself of a high-fever that forced him to keep skipping out on school-days.

It seemed to leave him with no extra will to work on his personal projects, but all you saw him do was avert you (like usual, but you could tell he was really trying to make sure not to even look at you and it hurt your non-existent feelings, dammit) and finish the school assignments his friends dropped by to give. You could almost feel that excuse about to be said, and it made you groan internally at how many goddamn times you let that slide. Good god, John _was_ rubbing off on you and making you sweat over the issue like a woman in labor and an Arizona desert. 

Dirk suddenly turns away for a moment and then pulls up a bottle of water and a half-finished cup of orange juice.

His brow creases even more as you shift your weight onto one leg, hip leaning against the counter to strike the classic not-so-convinced pose for silent clarification on his equally silent explanation. You suddenly got the feeling that he might not even be able to speak or his voice was too hoarse, but you find yourself wrong on both ends when he conveniently speaks. "Work kept m' up." he says flatly. Okay, cool... There was a sour tinge to it, but nothing more. Not in tone, but his voice is just slightly off pitch. You don't know whether to be relieved or somewhat unnerved, but you go with skeptical and unimpressed with his answer as Dirk quite literally shrugs the topic and conversation off for good, gathers the bottle under his arm, kicks the door to the pantry closed and just ...

"Hold up, kid." You call out impulsively, fingers reaching out to nip at his elbow. The majority of you was not keen on simply letting him bypass you again and object to his health for even longer -- as mother fucking hen as that sounded. He looks as though he's too tired to come up with a more original excuse as to why he's up, and you feel abashed to know that it worries you more than it should. Your non-existent feelings really did try their best to seem genuine, god you needed some tranquilizers or some shit before it makes you do anything else stupid.

Dirk halts, cringing as he does so, and turns his head towards you with a questioning look glazing over his face. "What?" He asks sharply, and you could almost tell he was annoyed with you as well, so proposing to talk would most likely get a golden finger to your face. Angst-y teens, goddamn. All you wanted to do is tip-toe past his snarky remarks and calculated denial. You just can't argue with him if he finds a solid reason to defend himself with, so you might as well take plan B down to vague-city.

Thinking off the top of your head, you say the latest thing you could think of. "My room, thirty seconds, bottle of ibuprofen. Go." 

Dirk blinks at your request, more or less processing it before all you see is a blur and an empty space where he was only a few seconds ago. At least he still upheld your word, but you have a strong feeling it was more out of curiosity. After all, he probably hasn't been able to do anything other than check his blog online and eat salted crackers for the majority of his day. Might as well see what your rad Bro wants you to do, says Dirks' thought process./p>

When you make it up to your room when the time marks, the door shuts from behind and a familiar pair of eyes set on you. Dirk sits on your mattress with his legs crossed and a bottle of pills in his left hand. You catch the water bottle he was once carrying just sitting on the nightstand, but you're more focused on the honey-like glow his eyes emit. 

With the lights shut off, you can barely register which silhouette was what until you stray over to the window and lift the blinds to let solid moonlight filter in and reflect off of your floor, the light catching Dirk up to his jaw. He just watches you intently as you make your way over to the bed with him, promptly stopping when you're facing right in front of him. You raise a finger and point at the over-sized v-neck he wore. "Off."

Dirk looks a little flustered by your demand, but you simply bore him down with your stare until he acquiesced, dropping the bottle to the bed and started to fumble with the hem of his shirt. "I wouldn't be surprised if you ultimately came down with heat stroke wearing the thing." You admit lazily as Dirk tosses the shirt to the side before scooting further back onto the bed, a suspicious look ripening on his features as he speaks again. This time the sour tinge to it is amplified, and you know it isn't just from his condition. "Is this just all a conjecture that 'm not taking 'care' of myself with this shit-tastic ailment I was graced with for the past week? Because along with that, you exaggerated and decided to lock me in your bed for the night. Can't say my pride ain't a little damaged, Bro." 

You sigh, long and low at that. _Ailment_ though, haha, you've got some finicky doubts over that choice of wording-- "An astounding observation, truly." you end up quipping, and that earns you a frown as you plop unceremoniously on the mattress back first, Dirk sitting adjacent to you but not moving. Fortunately. "But c'mon, ya can't blame me for having daddy issues to deal with when you're runnin' around at fuck you o' clock and I caught you awake over n' over and over the week. Just what fucked ya up enough to get a thought process that's conjuring ripostes and excuses to my words as we speak?" you feel yourself blurting out your train of thought, but with no tracks to run with anymore you're stuck with your little brother and the evident stiffening in his shoulders. There's a pill in his hand, must've popped the cap open from the ibuprofen and he silently reaches over to grab his water bottle after tossing it in his mouth.

"So, fuck your pride, guardians obviously don't give a shit 'bout it so I'm not making an exception for myself." You manage to gather up a few overkill words and blurt them out as well. "'M talkin' likes and amateur comments on all of your social media, interruptin' class to bring you the lunch you forgot at home in some culturally offensive attire, the list will go on for fucking miles and I'm going to ace it all. Deal. 

Dirk finally sighs. You glance up at him while you remove your shades and toss them aside on the bed, still watching him as his fingers drum across the bottle of pills and chucks the closed water bottle to the opposite end of the bed. 

He suddenly tilts himself over and falls over to one side, before sprawling out from his once curled up sitting position. Dirk heaves another sigh, this time it's louder but ultimately muffled by the messed up sheets on your bed as he pulls himself up to the pillows. You watch him with slight astonishment and triumph, a smirk bold on your lips as he flips over to his side and pushes his flank flush with yours. Dirk then snorts at your reaction with half-lidded eyes. 

"You whipped out the angst-radiating Daddy loves you trump card on me Bro. That was low and you should feel bad for using that as an excuse to persist me in your room, and possibly subject yourself to getting a similar infection with me rubbing all over you in your sleep. Now that I think about it, it seems like a justified scenario comeback." he mutters, voice suddenly bathed in warm languor as he soaked in the comfort the bed and his brother's presence offered. You haven't really thought twice about the possibility of catching anything contagious from him, but you find yourself too settled down to give a fuck. If that would be the death of you, so be it, you just wanted to stay there with your little brother.

"But as a delayed response to your fucked-up-thought-process theory I suppose it was sleep deprivation itself." his voice trails off so delicately, fading into the non-existence you've wanted it to go to for the past week, but now you're honesty more concerned with how you're going to drag him to bed the next night.


End file.
